Anguish Breakdown Confusion
by Misunderstood Beauty
Summary: For nonsenseandmischief's song fic challenge. Ruthharry. Spoilers for 5.05


-

Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,  
and think of you  
caught up in circles confusion—  
is nothing new  
Flashback—warm nights—  
almost left behind  
suitcases of memories,  
time after—

-Cyndi Lauper – Time after Time

-

A is for anguish.

-

Every night he thought of her. He thought of her when he was feeding Fidget. He thought of her when he was typing out a email to the Home secretary. He thought of her as the warm summer nights began to close into the dark coldness of winter. He thought of her as he heard the clock tick.

He could remember the first – and last – kiss as though it were yesterday. He could also remember all the opportune moments he had had to tell her that he loved her before then. Lost opportunities. Dead ends. He had no chance again now. If he hadn't been so blind, if her had asked her sooner then could have had months. Years maybe.

Fidget was the one of the few things he had that reminded him of her. He had left her house pretty much as it was other than nabbing Fidget, a large dictionary that had her writing on and a few dusty photos.

Fidget was lying on the bottom of his bed, curled in the cover. The leather bound dictionary was on the cluttered desk, propped up in-between his computer and the candle he had acquired from his mother, which for some unexplained reason reminded him of Ruth.

The photos he had taken were on his bedside table. One showed her at what he supposed was her school prom, she was wearing a long red dress and was laughing the sort of laugh that made him melt. Her bright grey eyes were alight with joy. He had hardly ever seen her like that. He had to admit that he liked it.

The second showed her with Fidget and another cat he didn't recognise. She was happy in this photo as well. Her eyes were once again shining with a happiness he hadn't had a chance to see.

The third was a group photo, it had her and a boy Harry didn't know in the middle surrounded by various people in costume. Ruth looked no more than 17, a scribbled note at the bottom read 'Lady Macbeth, Sixth form play'.

He wished that he was the man standing beside her, he wished he was holding Fidget with her, he wished he could have taken her to her prom. He wished he could have her.

-

B is for breakdown.

-

He was working overtime to stay together. He wouldn't slip down into the depths of despair like Adam or Tom. He drank more than he should, but he always had, now really wasn't any different.

He was depressed, but he was old and experienced enough to keep the glue together.

She was one of those people who he had taken for granted. He hadn't taken into account just how much he needed her until she was gone. Forever. He would never; he could never see her again. That hurt.

Fidget was still nestling in the duvet in-between his feet, the tabby was purring against his left ankle, the brown tail was tickling the sole of his right foot. On any other occasion that would have brought a surge of affection for the creature but this time it made resentment boil a little. He'd rather it was her tickling him than her damn cat.

He closed his eyes, wishing apon every single bloody star that was twinkling in the sky that she would come back to him in any way, shape or form.

She had been the glue that had not only held section D together; she had been the glue that had held him together. Now she was gone he was slowly falling apart. He had snapped at Juliet for no reason, he had hit the scotch big time, he had lost it with Ruth's replacements. He was becoming distant. His brain had flown off to some far away place with her. He just wished his body could have followed.

-

C is for Confusion

-

The post came early that morning, earlier than usual. He heaved himself out of bed, dislocating Fidget whilst he was at it. He trudged wearily down to the front door.

He shuffled through the mindlessly colourful junk mail and the drearily brown bill he spotted a hint of the deep purple Ruth used to wrap presents in. Confused, he pulled it out from in-between two brown envelopes, both labelled 'urgent' and 'confidential' and saw that it was a crisp white envelope, wrapped in a dark plum coloured ribbon. The handwriting on the envelope looked vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't quite place the neat curls of his name and address in the dark ink.

He retraced his steps back up to his bedroom and to his roomy black chair. He gently undid the ribbon and wound it round the tarnished silver candle. He lifted the flap on the envelope and slid out the paper tucked neatly inside.

'_If you're lost you can look, and you will find me,  
time after time  
if you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting,  
time after time_

After my picture fades and darkness has turned to grey,  
watching through windows, you're wondering  
if I'm OK  
secrets stolen from deep inside  
the drum beats out of time.

_I was in love with you, I am now, and I always will be._

_R_

_xx'_

He read the message twice, and then once again. Fidget leapt up and curled into his lap as he stared at the buttermilk paper. It confused him, yet he perfectly comprehended it all at the same time.


End file.
